


It's GO Time

by darksylvir



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, Oneshot, POV Alternating, Pokemon GO Shenanigans, Social Media AU, done quite badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvir/pseuds/darksylvir
Summary: “I am not. Going to clear an extraneous patrol team. On our limited budget. Just so they cango catch Pokemon.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm so behind the hype, but I still adore this game, and it's about time I got this up xD
> 
> Enjoy!

It gets out of hand almost immediately. Not that that’s much of a surprise, given these idiots--Fushimi scowls out a cursory glance at the shift schedule, like he doesn’t have it memorized. “There are already three patrols out. They get back in ten. Until then, we don’t need another.”

Hidaka, who must obviously be suffering from some desperate momentary delusion of camaraderie, leans over the desk and way too far into Fushimi’s personal bubble. “Come on, Fushimi-san, what’s a few minutes? We’ll just start a little early and--”

“I am _not_.” The knife-to-throat deal is probably overkill, but it’s been a long morning, and it does do a good job of holding his errant subordinate’s focus on the gravity of his words. “Going to clear an extraneous patrol team. On our limited budget. Just so they can _go catch Pokemon_.”

He may or may not be punctuating each phrase with a little too much pressure--but Hidaka’s one of those resilient pests, bouncing back with an easy shrug and fixing his collar to hide the nick. “Well, it was worth a shot. Though just saying ‘no’ would’ve cut it too, y’know.” He waves over his shoulder as he strolls out. “Give it a try, Fushimi-san--might be nice to loosen up.”

 _Loosen up._ Fushimi clicks his tongue, turns back to the monitor. As if they can afford anyone else slacking off--he’s already had to confiscate Domyouji’s phone like a goddamn nanny, Kamo’s been bumbling around with a Hello Kitty pink mobile that decidedly does not belong to him, and he can only assume Hidaka’s off to tell the rest of the Last-Letter Squad that negotiations have failed. Even Akiyama and Benzai have been unnaturally keen on offering to take reports up to Captain.

Apparently the Blue King’s office is a hotspot for rares, because of course it would be.

His phone buzzes. He looks over, spares a few short flicks with his fingers, then goes back to compiling a much needed set of mobile gaming restrictions to be put in effect within the Scepter 4 HQ. At least Awashima and Captain seemed to be acting--the same. More or less. The thought of that guy’s unnatural focus and limitless dedication coming to bear on the fact that their building was now a gym in contention-- _nope,_ not dealing with that fallout.

Another buzz, another distracted flick. Honestly, why these morons can’t just splice their phones’ GPS signals into one of the city trash robots and be done with it is beyond him.

* * *

“All I’m saying is that we gotta have pride! HOMRA’s a gym now and we’re not gonna let some snot-nosed punks take it outta our hands!”

“You tell ‘em, San-chan!” Akagi cheers from the bar, and Tatara has half a mind to join in until Kusanagi-san reaches over and clocks both offenders across the back of their heads.

“I’ve had it up to here-- _here--_ with you brats ruining every opportunity for good business, _now--_ ” He shoves a rather large placard at the pair, and Tatara can just make out the characters for ‘rare’, ‘Pokemon’, and ‘paying customers’ before they fumble it. “Go hang that outside--don’t you _dare_ drop it or you’re wearing the pieces till close. Get.”

And so they do, the command whipping their heels into a frenzy. _Yikes--_ poor Kusanagi-san, his short fuse is showing. Tatara hums a soothing snatch of song, tapping idly at his own screen. “You have to credit their enthusiasm, at least. It is our kingdom.”

“Lotta good that’s doin’ me.” Slang means he’s still grumpy, giving the bartop a vicious shine while shooting twitchy glances at the couch--where Anna’s absconded with his phone. That’s probably what’s got him in this little twist. Maybe they ought to stage an intervention? That level of mobile-reliance is unhealthy. “Rue the damn day--Anna-chan, you’re sure there aren’t any messages?”

She doesn’t even look up, just nods solemnly and tucks in even closer to King’s side. He’s dead asleep, of course, but Tatara imagines his ‘charisma’ is still at work, seeing how fast her fingers are moving. Kings do get all the luck. “Maa, Kusanagi-san, I told you it’s well past the time we get her her own phone.”

“Yeah, of course, once I finally drag this place out of the red that’ll be my first priority.”

The door sounds a merry chime, and for a moment the bartender’s face takes on charm to match--before falling flat when Fujishima and Eric stroll in. The former stares dolefully down at his screen, the latter carrying on in mid-deadpan. “--can’t keep all of them, then your box gets cluttered. Plus, they’re all pretty pathetic with levels--”

“Don’t just _say_ that, you’ll make them feel bad.”

“Seriously, who collects Rattata? The Eevees I understand, maybe, but don’t just pick up every single one that’s in range--see, now you’ll miss out on the Arcanine.”

“There’s an Arcanine?!”

“Here,” Anna offers, still not looking up but sparing a hand to point at its general vicinity. There’s a scramble of steps, a crash, and Kusanagi-san absolutely losing it.

_“You--!”_

Tatara decides he should keep out of it for now, ducking his head and pulling up the HOMRA’s new gym roster. As expected, Yata has made it to the prime champion spot, Valor colors flying behind his avatar and Pokemon of choice--an impressively-overpowered Primeape. There could be some things to say about irony, but Tatara imagines pointing it out would be a touch mean-spirited. A touch.

He picks up the hum again, in tune with Kusanagi-san’s background ranting, and wonders if Kings can get caught up in this sort of thing too.

* * *

Normally, Enomoto Tatsuya wouldn’t take something like this upon himself--he’s got his fandoms, sure, but he knows what happens when certain lines are crossed between passion and profession. But sometimes--well, sometimes you need to gather up a brave face and make that leap. Besides, it is sort of his turn to step up--what with Hidaka risking daily stabbings from an increasingly irritated Fushimi-san to wheedle out some extra route time. Heh, Weedle.

Still, there’s a marked difference between standing in front of Fushimi-san and standing in front of Captain. Tatsuya clears his throat, tries to remember that this is the same man who led him and Fuse on a James Bond-like hotel escapade. In an actual  _suit_. “Sir, I’ve come to bring you the first status report from the Official Scepter 4 Pokemon Go Social Initiative Team, er, thank you again for the opportunity.”

Should he bow? Feels like he should bow, maybe, but Captain’s already doing that ‘go on’ hand thing he does. “Not at all, Enomoto-kun–in terms of qualification, there is no one better suited to lead this particularly fascinating project in civic engagement. Now, how are things progressing?”

“Right, um, if I may.” _Ganbatte, Tatsuya-kun, you can do it! Thank you, inner-magical-girl-chan._ With a deep breath, he unrolls the painstakingly crafted overhead map of Tsubaki-mon, and congratulates himself on springing for the gloss finish. “As we’ve become aware, the Scepter 4 grounds now contain several PokeStops--areas such as the _dojo_ , the gardens, and the, well, the No. 3 jail cell, for some reason. Not to mention the Gym, located right over our main building--”

“Ah, a brief question, Enomoto-kun?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Would you happen to have an extra copy of this delightful design of yours? I must remark upon it's potential to be a rather intriguing puzzle.”

“Uh, the print place would only give me one on my budget, so--”

“Oya, is that so? A pity, but do continue.”

 _Mental note: find place that will do poster-sized prints. Soon. Ascend to first-degree Third-Megane status._ “Well, that being said, our HQ has suddenly become very popular with the general public, which was a bit of a problem, being a government building and all. But I’m happy to report that the measures put into place last week seem to be quite effective--the guided tours are a huge success for both outreach and transparency, as well as leadership in the ranks.” He traces a finger loosely along the designated path. “Kamo-san and Lieutenant Awashima are very popular with the groups, oh, and Fushimi-san, even though he only did it the one time.”

That’d been a sight--Tatsuya had been sure he’d have to write at least a dozen formal apologies to the local daycare center and perhaps grovel his way over to deliver them by hand, but apparently Fushimi-san had idol-level charm underneath all the snark. That, or he was just really good at finding Pikachu. Captain seems to find it amusing, in any case. “Perhaps I should have a word with Fushimi-kun about making further use of his unique ability to engage this younger demographic. There is much to be gained from such a forward disposition.”

 _Better you than me, Captain._ So far, so good, but here was the last bit and that was--well-- “Um, Captain, about the Gym…”

Come to think of it, he’s never actually seen Captain playing--though Domyouji swears he saw him wandering around the practice grounds at night, phone in hand, but even that’s not really proof of anything besides the Blue King’s, uh, natural eccentricities. That pleasant, steady gaze is fixed on him now; he clears his throat. “Have you had a chance to try the application yourself, sir?”

No change in that faint smile, or the familiar steepling of fingers. “I am aware of the mechanics, yes.”

That--is some kind of answer. Tatsuya bites down the urge to fidget. “Our Gym has been a popular spot for Team Mystic trainers to gain battle experience, since, we--I mean, other members of the Special Ops Division and I--claimed it early on. But, just recently--erm, someone’s taken over it. A Valor player.” With a sigh, he pulls out his phone and opens up the incriminating evidence. “We’ve been trying, but they’re impossible to beat.”

He’s not about to voice his own suspicions--the image speaks for itself, but Captain’s expression only remains that vague kind of intrigued as he studies the screen. “I take it, then, that this ‘K1NG’ is a rather formidable adversary. However, Enomoto-kun, is not a challenge the point of this particular endeavor?”

“Only if you’re against someone actually human,” he mutters, then suddenly remembers to whom he’s speaking. _Backtrack, backtrack!_ “Not that there’s anything--” Great, Captain’s giving him that terribly concerned raised eyebrow. “Well, it’s just a matter of image, I guess. Having another team’s colors over us is sort of--grating.”

He tacitly does not mention that Fuse has been forgoing precious hours of downtime and sleep to try and single-handedly take back the Gym and ‘the honor of Scepter 4’, while Hidaka and Domyouji have been scouring the city for powerful team additions. The whole thing’s been giving him Kounomura Incident flashbacks, for some reason. But he should know by now that nothing, spoken or unspoken, really escapes Captain’s notice.

“Thank you for your report, Enomoto-kun, it has been quite enlightening. Carry on with the current initiatives and please, do not hesitate to explore and implement new programs as the situation develops. As for the matter of our Gym’s prestige--”  Is it just him, or has that agreeable voice gone just a little bit thin? “I shall attend to the issue personally.”

A fraction of a nod and the light hits Captain’s glasses in a perfect Machiavellian gleam, lifted straight from a manga scene. A little disheartening that he’d never quite measure up to such _megane_ brilliance, but Tatsuya take pride in being able to bear witness.

Some things are just cut out for Kings.

* * *

“Here you are, Seri-chan.”

“Thank you, Kusanagi-san.”

It’s different tonight--not that Izumo can't put his finger on why, just that he’s not sure where to start. For one, though it’s not an unusual hour for them, Seri-chan is still clad in the careful press of her uniform--none of the soft frills and pale silks he’s come to expect. But then, her hair is down in the usual waves, flirting at her shoulders as she leans over her classic order.

Odd. Not completely unwelcome--Seri-chan’s the kind of lovely that never gets old--but a crossing of worlds that makes him think something’s up. Well, then, he won’t have to wait long to learn what it is. Scepter 4’s Lieutenant can be unflinchingly direct with that kind of talk, same as she is with her blade. Which she’s still wearing. Hm.

“Would it be wrongheaded of me to guess that _mademoiselle_ isn’t just visiting for our humble establishment’s stellar drink selection?” he says, because he’s not so easily derailed from conversation with a beautiful lady. “And peerless service, of course.”

She almost snorts at that--he can see it wrinkle cutely on the bridge of her nose. One day he’ll make it happen. “The intuition is correct, though its packaging is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Ouch, you always cut straight to the heart, huh? My uncle would turn in his grave.”

“Likely he hasn’t stopped, with half the things you manage to say.” She’s muddling her anko instead of the normal scoop-and-savor, but the line of her body still reads relaxed. Her eyes flick up, though, catch on his with some intensity. “But to the point--I’m to offer a parley.”

Ah, there it is. Izumo sighs. “What have they done this time?”

Not that he didn’t have his own laundry list of probable reasons, starting with the aborted tirade Yata set off on the minute Seri-chan stepped into HOMRA. Luckily Kamamoto was able to wrestle the vanguard down and out-- _quietly_ , too, and with minimal damage. Izumo had to hand that to him. The others hanger-ons, unlike their _de facto_ superior, were much better at reading situations, and left without a fuss--though, he noted, with a few sour looks between them.

“For once, those ruffians aren’t the immediate problem,” Seri-chan says, breaking through his thoughts. “Though these skirmishes between our respective forces are getting a bit out of hand, wouldn’t you agree? And over a game, it’s--” She shakes her head. “Well, I can’t claim to understand.”

“Seri-chan doesn’t play?” He picks up his phone from where it’s charging, tucked between the bottles. Anna’s been steadily killing the battery, and the data, and he knows even if he hides the thing she’ll just get out her marbles. “Well, it has just come out--it’ll run its course. In the meantime, at least it gives those scuffles a bit of a point, doesn’t it?”

“I think I preferred it when all the emergency draw requests I’ve had to deny didn’t have ‘Gym Prestige’ as the reason.” Seri-chan pulls out her own mobile, flicks deftly to the app. “The same issue that merits this particular visit. Take a look.”

Izumo tries not to concentrate on how the case is still warm from her hand, slips and pulls up her list of Pokemon. It’s sparse, but powerful, highest CP held by two--  _“Jigglypuff?”_

It throws him enough that his tongue trips, and her eyes go flinty. “They’re an effective pair, I’ll have you know.”

“R-right. Of course.” He squints. “Anko and Parfait. Lovely names.”

“Enough.” The spoon rattles testily against the glass. “Go back to the map and find Scepter 4’s Headquarters. You’ll see what I mean.”

A few swipes and he does. His smile goes wry. “Oh, well. Guess this app really does pull in everyone.”

“The troop clashes we’ll handle as we always have--it is somewhat of an inevitability.” Seri-chan’s gaze flicks to the stairwell. “But that sort of petty behavior is beneath Kings, isn’t it?”

“Yours, maybe.” Izumo chuckles fondly, if a little strained. “Me, I’m thinking it’s just good old retaliation. Not completely unwarranted, too--that guy’s not the type to back off from blatant challenge.”

Her eyes are back to him, the slight furrow of her brow shadowing from behind her bangs. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Kusanagi-san.”

She really doesn’t--they’ve always been good at reading each other. So Izumo lays the phone on the bartop, swivels it to face her, and flicks the map back to their current location. HOMRA’s Gym, blue as a bruised ego. “Been like this a few days. I imagine that’s why my boys have been a bit--confrontational.”

Seri-chan blinks. “So you think this ‘r0yale’ is--” She stops, presses her lips together. “Captain never mentioned that he’d started to play.”

Izumo shrugs. Mikoto’s account was news to him, too. Geez, they never did get a break with these two. He picks up a nearby tumbler, sets it across from Seri-chan’s half-drained glass, and pours himself a heavy hand. “Well, best to set up these negotiations then, huh?”

Two glasses clink in a weary salute.

* * *

“So, you gonna tell ‘em?”

“Why, whatever do you mean?”

Downtown rooftops are neutral territory by default, with the added bonus of privacy. It’s not impossible for their clansmen to scale the ridiculous heights, but they expend more of their limited power and incur considerably more risk than their Kings. Personally, Mikoto thinks that it’s also that the Blue King has a drama hard-on for the way the wind kicks up that stupid coat of his. And Reisi, taking in his current companion’s all too comfortable sprawl over the nearest ledge, reminds himself that all cats prefer to be situated at the highest vantage point above everyone and everything--thus, this is but a natural inclination.

Cat-like, too, the way he eyes him--sideways, and unaffected. “That I’m not the one camping on their gym.”

“I imagine--” Munakata fixes his glasses against the cutting breeze, fixes his smile just as sharp. “Once you inform your compatriots that they hold a similar misconception.”

A beat, pulled long with easy tension, snaps the moment Suoh bothers with a grin. “You too, huh?”

“Honestly.” The Blue King reaches into his coat, the Red into his back pocket. “To think my tactics have become so contrived as to be transparent to the likes of you.”

“Say that like it’s a bad thing, ‘K1NG’.”

“I would wager that it will be, in time, ‘r0yale’.” The phones switch hands easily enough, a brief contact that could still read like lingering--maybe, if there was anyone there to see it. “You do realize that the usage of that word is far from correct?”

“Someone downstairs had Pulp Fiction going--went with what I made out.” Mikoto smirks as he scrolls through the list--twelve Flareons, the hell? Guess no one’s filled him in on the cheat for that. Well, see how long it takes.

“I don’t know whether to belittle your understanding of English or your debasement of French.” His rival seems to have an odd predilection for the smaller, somewhat endearing variety of captures--but, then again, that explains the adoration of Miss Anna, and the other young children that flock toward him in total dismissal of his orgulous aura and terrible attitude. Quite similar to Fushimi-kun, in that respect.

 _“Tais-toi, connard.”_ Guess sometimes Izumo’s insistences pay off--Munakata raises an eyebrow at him, and Mikoto decides to call it impressed. “Guess Valor could suit a prick like you.”

“There is nothing ignoble about excellence achieved through training and effort. It is one of Scepter 4’s core tenets, and remains so regardless of what color it happens to wear.” He extends the device back to its owner. “I would love to hear your particular reasons for choosing a team that rebels against HOMRA’s convention in both creed and symbolism.”

“Easy,” the Red King offers, along with the mobile and another flash of teeth. “Their leader’s the hottest.”

Reisi certainly does not almost drop his phone off a 40-storey building. Nor does he stutter, though it almost takes effort to measure his tone. “How crude.”

“You asked.” But enough of this--Mikoto hasn’t got all night, though now, maybe, he kinda wishes he did. He stands, shrugging off the sudden wind. “So, how you want to go about this?”

“I had hoped that at least one of our members would rise to the occasion.” Munakata chuckles to himself. “But I suppose these kingly abilities accommodate a vast range of circumstances. That being said, I do not wish this to be a further distraction.”

“The great Munakata Reisi, asking me to hand his ass to him in battle,” is the answering drawl. “Ain’t that something else?”

“Oya, you seem to be under the impression that I do not plan to do the same, with the utmost degree of brutality.” Reisi’s hand finds his sword hilt, easy as his gaze finds Suoh’s own. “Do not forget the philosophy of my chosen team.”

“Valor bastard.”

“Degenerate Mystic.”

They could do this forever--if only. Still, Mikoto can’t help but to keep pushing. “So, your place or mine?”

“It is customary, I believe, to offer the disadvantaged party the first move.” Reisi turns, imagines it’s the harshness of the atmospheric conditions that spreads a flush across his face. “We’d best be on our way--I imagine you’ll need the time.”

“Don’t count on any more favors, you keep talkin’ like that.”

“Oh, perish the thought.”

The long way down’s a rush, but in present company, well, a lot of things tend to be.

* * *

The next day finds each gym under their ‘proper’ colors, and no one is ever the wiser.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [darksylvir](http://darksylvir.tumblr.com)
> 
> Feel free to follow :


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